


Bare Walls

by MoominQuartz (IceCreAMS)



Category: Our Life: Beginnings & Always (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, Depression, Drowning, Family Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Baxter Ward/Main Character | Jamie Last (Our Life), Recovery, Suicide Attempt, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCreAMS/pseuds/MoominQuartz
Summary: Ever since he moved to Sunset Bird, Cove Holden never got along well with Jackson Rowe. They were neighbors, but not much more, just... tolerating each other's existence. Cove didn't expect that to change. Then, the summer after their high school graduation, Jackson began behaving oddly. Odd enough for even Cove to take notice.One drastic decision becomes a ripple that affects their entire town.
Relationships: Clifford "Cliff" Holden & Cove Holden, Cove Holden & Elizabeth Last, Cove Holden & Main Character | Jamie Last (Our Life)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Bare Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags, this is a dark one. It explicitly deals with a suicide attempt by drowning, but I promise you there is a happy ending. It also explores a lot of how a suicide attempt affects everyone around the person in question.
> 
> Disclaimer: I have firsthand experience with depression & suicidality, which I drew on a lot for this fic. Admittedly, I have never attempted suicide. I am doing pretty good right now in terms of mental health, which is why I felt all right writing this fic. If you aren't, then please... viewer discretion is advised. No shame in x'ing out of a tab.
> 
> This is my first time writing for this fandom, so please be kind.

Cove would never have said that he and Jackson were ‘close,’ but they _were_ neighbors. So occasionally, as was polite, Cove would inform Jackson of his routine. It was never anything big — it was small things, like if they passed one another on the street, Cove would let him know that he was headed to the beach and wouldn’t be home the rest of the day.

So, at the beginning of the summer after their graduation, Cove decided it would be a good idea to let Jackson know what he could expect from him.

Cove had a busy summer lined up. In addition to volunteering with ORCA — something he’d been doing for several years now — he was going to be taking on a part-time job. His goal was to be out of his dad’s house by summer’s end.

It was not Jackson’s business, exactly, but they’d been neighbors for long enough that Cove thought it might be courteous to let him know what he could expect. And if he told Jackson, he could rest assured that the information would make its way to his moms and Liz, too.

Jackson nodded along to everything Cove said. When Cove was done, there was a moment of quiet between them. This was how it usually was; Jackson had never been very talkative. So Cove was surprised when Jackson turned to him and said, “Thanks for letting me know.”

Cove smiled. Maybe they’d be getting to bond a little more before Cove left the neighborhood. That would be nice, if they could finally click; especially since Jackson didn’t really get along well with anybody.

“So what about you?” Cove asked. “What are your plans for the summer?”

Jackson was silent for a moment. Cove paused and turned to him, raising an eyebrow. There was a thoughtful look on Jackson’s face. Cove got the impression that Jackson had an answer, but was debating the wording on it.

When he finally opened his mouth, Cove was surprised.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Jackson nodded, as if this explained everything, and then went inside.

Cove sighed. Well, scratch that idea. Maybe the universe just didn’t want the two of them to be friends.

-

Admittedly, it had been a while since Cove was last in Jackson’s room. They didn’t usually have cause to hang out, and when they did, it was usually with other people, in public.

But still, this was odd. Cove glanced around at the walls of his room, which the last time he’d been here had been filled with so many drawings and posters, you couldn’t tell the color of the paint. Most of them had been of the ocean, or the beach, which was something Cove could appreciate no matter how much they didn’t get along. Now there was nothing but dark blue walls.

Jackson’s things, too, had changed. His bed remained mostly the same, as did his dresser, but his desk was certainly much less cluttered. He didn’t leave his laptop out, like had a thousand times before, and most of the books from his bookcase were missing. In their place were piles of Jackson’s clothes, as if he were sorting them. That was odd, Cove thought, because his dresser was right there.

“Hey.”

Jackson looked up, raising a single, solitary brow. Cove frowned. He didn’t know how to ask about this, and worst of all, he didn’t know if he _should._ Was this the kind of thing someone worried about?

“What happened to…” Cove gestured. Jackson simply stared back at him, waiting for him to finish his question. “…uh… your shells?”

That’s right. Jackson had shown Cove that giant box of shells he’d treasured, way back when they were kids. It was a staple of the room and usually sat under the desk. There’d been one point, maybe a few years back, when Jackson had even displayed them on the shelves and windowsill.

Jackson shrugged.

Cove scowled. Jackson looked away and rubbed at the back of his neck, clearly unwilling to give him an answer. Cove folded his arms across his chest. “Do you at least still have that orange one?”

To his surprise, Jackson stood and moved to the dresser. Cove watched as he opened the top drawer, pulled something out, and then returned to Cove’s side. He had to look up to maintain eye contact — Cove was tall even by cis men’s standards, while Jackson was just a hair taller than Miranda — and then he extended his hand.

In it was the shell in question.

“Take it,” Jackson said.

Cove blinked.

“What?”

“You want it, so take it.”

Cove laughed. It felt awkward and too high in his chest. “Uh, no, that’s not what I meant.” He frowned. “Do you keep the other shells with your clothes, too?”

That was a good way to keep your clothes sandy, no matter how many times you washed the shells.

Jackson sighed. He sounded defeated, somehow, and he turned to put the shell away. “No.”

Cove frowned. 

But it seemed Jackson wasn’t going to be saying anything else on the matter, so the subject dropped.

-

“Hey, Terri? Miranda?”

“Yeah?”

“Have either of you spoken to Jackson recently?”

Terri hummed. “Can’t say that I have. Why? You suddenly wanna be his best bud or something?”

Cove rolled his eyes, which got a laugh out of her. Ever since Terri discovered that Cove’s dad and Jackson’s moms had tried to matchmake them as children, she’d desperately wanted to be in on the joke.

“No. Just concerned, I guess.”

“‘Bout what, buddy? He’s too quiet to be a stoner. Although maybe he’s high all the time and that’s why he’s like that.”

“Terri,” Cove said slowly, “you’ve met my mom. Trust me, I know what high looks like.”

Terri burst into laughter at the joke, and Cove smiled fondly.

“What is it you’re concerned about?” Miranda asked.

Cove crossed his arms, considering. His fingers brushed the skin of his scar. “I don’t know, exactly. Something just feels off about him.”

“He’s _always_ off,” Terri groaned. “Forget about him. We can hang with Baxter instead.”

The cringe on Cove’s face made her cackle.

-

Then came the charity event.

When Jackson came to Cove’s booth to acquire about prices, he looked so… _sad._ It was something in his eyes, Cove thought. Something that made him less quiet and more somber.

“It’s one hundred and fifty dollars a person.”

Jackson nodded. He reached into his pocket and silently pulled out the cash. Cove raised an eyebrow. “I thought your moms were the ones coming?”

“They can’t, so they want me to attend instead.”

Cove frowned. “So won’t they be the ones paying for it?” He’d never known the Rowes to demand their children to pay for something when they easily had the money.

Jackson shrugged.

Cove’s frown deepened as he accepted the folded up bills. A fifty, some twenties, a few tens…

“Where did you even get this money?” Cove asked, brows furrowed. “You don’t have a job.”

“There’s other ways to get money,” Jackson said.

Cove looked up at him and raised a brow. The green remained in his hands, where it would sit until Jackson gave him something more than that. “Yeah?”

Jackson sighed. “You can sell things, too.”

Cove recalled the sparse bedroom, without much left in it.

“Your moms know about that?”

Jackson froze. There was something vulnerable, beseeching, in the way he gazed at Cove, and it was so incredibly uncomfortable that Cove put the money away to procure the ticket, if only because it gave him something to do other than look at him.

“You, uh, have to fill out the clipboard there,” Cove muttered. “So you’re accounted for.”

Jackson might have nodded, or he might not have. But Cove heard the scratch of pen on paper, and he wondered why this suddenly made him so anxious.

When Jackson was done, Cove handed him the ticket. “Guess I’ll see you there,” Cove said.

Jackson shrugged. Then he turned and left, without another word.

Cove took a moment to watch him leave. Jackson hadn’t always walked like that, with such a slump to his body. There had been a time, when they were children, that Jackson had held his head high. Even as quiet as he’d been, he’d had a face and a posture like he was ready to fight the whole world.

This was a change that Cove was not sure he liked.

-

Terri and Miranda’s argument had been so stressful that Cove thought he might pop a blood vessel. And Jackson’s bedroom — a place he really did not intend on spending a lot of time — was exacerbating it all. It was too bare. Both his bookshelf and his desk had vanished, leaving only the bed, the dresser, and a lone rolling chair that was not comfortable. 

It was loud, in how empty it was. And that made the entire situation ten times worse. But the worst part of all of it was that Jackson had acted like this was just another day in paradise!

“Maybe it isn’t a big deal to you because you don’t care about them,” Cove muttered.

Jackson didn’t reply, only stared up at the ceiling from where he lay in his incredibly drab bedroom. For a moment, Cove thought he might’ve crossed a line. _Good,_ said the vindictive side of him; _that’ll teach him some empathy._ Then the absolute hypocrisy of that thought hit him, and he fought back a wince.

“I owe your dad twenty dollars, by the way.”

Cove blinked. Jackson wasn’t looking at him, and the absolute non sequitur just made his anger flare again. _“What?”_

“When we were kids, he paid me twenty dollars to be your friend.” Jackson frowned. “Guess I gotta pay him back.”

Cove stood. The revelation that his dad tried to bribe an eight-year-old to be his friend was one he could not think about right now. Jackson was deflecting, avoiding the accusation. Probably because there was some truth to it. “You know what? I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

Cove stormed out of the room, nearly ripping the lock out of the bedroom door in his haste. Jackson did not follow him, and Cove did not come back that night.

-

Cliff was helping Cove pick out his outfit for the charity banquet. Cove had rolled his eyes at first, had insisted he wasn’t a kid and knew how to dress up for something like this, but Cliff had shook his head. “I’m gonna put on Dad Mode and be proud of my kiddo, so let me help,” he’d said, and Cove had sighed, but he hadn’t been able to refuse him.

He found he was glad for it. Not because Cliff knew anything about fashion — which, he did, to be fair, and he took into account that Cove didn’t like the stiff, uncomfortable clothes often required for these formal events — but…

Well, Cliff knew about plenty of other things.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, bud?”

Cove’s resolve wobbled for a moment as Cliff helped him with the buttons at the wrist. Cove furrowed his brow as he fought for the words. Cliff sensed he needed a moment, and as soon as he was done, he let his wrist drop. He folded his arms across his chest and smiled patiently, for which Cove was grateful.

“…I’m kind of worried about Jackson.”

Cliff frowned. He had to be surprised — Cove couldn’t remember the last time he’d brought him up on his own — but he didn’t show it. “Yeah?”

“Do you…” Cove sighed. He might be worried for nothing. “Well, have you heard anything about him from his moms? Is he doing all right?”

“Hmm…” Cliff thought about it. “He came by here the other day to pay me back for, uh.” Cliff laughed, awkwardly, as he did whenever he had to acknowledge he’d done something wrong. “For paying him to be friends with you. It’s crazy that he even remembers the exact amount… and I told him not to worry about it, and he shoved the bill in my hands and walked off.”

_‘I owe your dad twenty dollars.’_

Cove hadn’t expected him to consider it a genuine debt.

“Last time the Rowes brought up anything of concern, it was about his grades. But you know as well as I do that he got his diploma and everything.”

“He hasn’t applied for college or anything?”

“Don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

Cove chewed on his bottom lip. _‘Nothing,’_ Jackson had said.

“I might be thinking about it too hard,” Cove said at last. “I probably am.”

“Try me,” Cliff said easily.

Cove sighed and sat back onto his desk chair. As he did, Cliff picked up a comb from the desk and began running it through Cove’s hair. Cove leaned in to the touch, finding it a soothing gesture.

“He’s been… purposeless, I think? He doesn’t have any idea of what he wants for his future.”

“That’s not unusual for a kid out of high school. He’s still trying to figure himself out.”

“Did you know Jackson’s getting rid of his things?”

Cliff paused the motion. “He’s what?”

“He’s sold almost everything in his room. He doesn’t even have the drawings he did.”

Cliff took a step back. Cove raised his head, but he couldn’t parse the look on his father’s face. “How long has that been going on?” Cliff asked.

“A few months, at least.”

Cliff frowned. There were cogs turning in his head, like he had some piece of the puzzle that Cove was missing. Maybe he knew what it meant. Cove hadn’t the foggiest clue.

“He’s going to the charity event tonight, right?” 

Cove nodded. Cliff nodded in return. After a moment, he set the comb aside and put both of his hands on Cove’s shoulders. “Thanks for telling me about this, kiddo. Don’t worry. I’ll get it figured out.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.” Cliff smiled, but his eyebrows were turned the wrong way for it to be a happy look. “You were right to worry, I think. But don’t worry about it right now. Tonight you should be celebrating! All your hard work is paying off. Literally, it saved you over a hundred and fifty dollars!”

Cliff laughed. 

“Dad. What happened to being honest with each other?”

“I am being honest. Really, kid. I’ll let you in on what my theory is when you get back tonight. Okay?”

Cove sighed. He supposed that would have to do for now, if Cliff wasn’t going to tell him. “All right. But I’ll hold you to it. Even if that means I have to wake you up.”

“I know you will, kiddo.”

-

The event itself was off to a good start. Originally, the Rowes had asked Cove to chauffeur, since Cove had a car and Jackson did not and they were neighbors, anyway, so it wasn’t a huge deal. Cove had been willing, until Jackson turned his nose up at the offer and said he’d just take an Uber.

Because, you know, a sleepy town like Sunset Bird just had so many people in the Uber business.

Somehow they were seated next to each other, which was a bit awkward after that. Even still, it was difficult to be too annoyed at Jackson’s unsociable behavior when Cove was being acknowledged for all his hard work with ORCA. When his name was read during the speech, he felt his grin spread so wide his cheeks hurt. 

Jackson pushed his food around on his plate and might have been struggling with his appetite. Cove did his best to make polite conversation, but Jackson appeared intent on not enjoying his company.

When the food was done and the dancing began, Cove sat at the table, watching everyone get to their feet. Several of the other volunteers he’d spent a lot of time with were up, especially the ones who either had brought dates or were dating each other. And then there were the donors, the ones Cove didn’t know, who had probably been looking forward to this part of the night.

Jackson remained sitting, fiddling with his hands beneath the table. Cove let out a breath and decided it was time to pull a Mom move. Be direct to get to the root of the problem, and then you spend less time worrying about it.

“Did I do something to offend you?”

Jackson jumped. He looked at Cove with confusion in his eyes. “Uh, no.”

“Then why are you acting like you’ve got a bug up your butt?”

Jackson blanched. It was a phrase Jackson had heard Cove’s mom use before, and Cove probably would not have had the courage to use it with anyone else. At least Cove did not really mind what Jackson thought of him.

“I just…” Jackson sighed. He sounded irritated. Cove opened his mouth to apologize for being so blunt when Jackson moved. He reached into the chest pocket of his button-up, when he pulled out something just small enough to fit into the palm of his hand. He held it out to Cove, and Cove blinked at it, surprised.

It was the orange shell. The one Cove had ogled nearly a decade ago, when Jackson had been paid by Cove’s dad to hang out with him that summer. Jackson hadn’t really seemed to like Cove then, and he didn’t seem to like Cove now.

So why did he remember it? Why was he insisting on handing it to him?

“Please take it,” Jackson said. Cove wouldn’t say he was begging, but there was a note of urgency in his voice. “This is the last thing I have to do.”

Cove stared at the shell, then looked up at Jackson. “Why?”

Jackson rolled his eyes. He shoved the shell into Cove’s chest. Cove did not react, nor did he lift his hand to take it from him.

“What do you mean by that? ‘The last thing you have to do’?”

“Cove…”

For a moment, they really were kids again. Jackson was pouting, too shy to meet Cove’s eyes, and Cove found himself on the receiving end of some odd form of affection that he didn’t know how to understand. 

It was important to him. Cove wanted to know why.

“Jackson—”

Frustration shown in Jackson’s eyes, and Cove was startled to see they were shining. Jackson set the shell on the table and stood. “Goodbye, Cove.”

“Wait—”

Jackson turned and made a quick exit. Cove stood reflexively, but found he didn’t know what he would say. Even if he caught up to Jackson — which he could, easily, because Cove was tall and athletic while Jackson was short and not — what would he do? Demand an explanation? Jackson wouldn’t react well to that. Especially not in public.

Relenting, Cove sat back down. He was suddenly aware of the eyes on him. One of the lead volunteers who he’d worked closely with came over. “That’s your friend, right?” she asked. “Did you guys have a fight?”

“It’s all right,” Cove said, though he wasn’t sure it was. “He’s just… like that sometimes. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

Cove hoped he was right.

-

When Cove returned home, it was near midnight. He was surprised to see that Dad’s car was not in the driveway. That meant that Cliff wasn’t home. Weird, given how late it was. Maybe it had something to do with Jackson, Cove thought as he shut the car door behind.

“Cove!”

He turned his head to see Liz rushing to his side from across the street. She must have seen his headlights pull in — which was odd. Liz was not a night owl by any means. “Cove, hey — you have Jackson, right?”

Cove blinked. “Huh?”

Cove had never seen Liz _this_ frazzled. She got upset sometimes, but never like _this._ She was panting heavily, having ran over to see him in her bare feet. He’d never seen Liz outside of the house without shoes. Her makeup was a mess and so was her hair. She held her phone in her hands, the screen flashing a battery warning that she wasn’t heeding.

 _“Jackson,”_ she repeated. “You brought him home, right?”

“I…” Cove swallowed. He glanced to his car, and so did she, but she picked up on his lack of response.

She sniffed. Liz had never cried in front of him before in their lives. Cove froze. 

“Jackson’s not back yet?” She shook her head. “That’s odd. He left almost an hour before me.”

 _“Shit.”_ Liz had never sworn before, either. She bit on her perfectly manicured nails. “Cove, do you have any idea where he could be?”

“No. Tell me what’s going on.”

Liz frowned. “Wait, what? Are you serious? Your dad said you were the one who told him!”

Cove furrowed his brow and folded his arms. “I told him about Jackson selling his things. I don’t know anything else.”

Liz groaned. She started to pace in the driveway. Cove glanced over to her house across the street and saw one of Jackson’s moms looking out the window. ‘The nicer one,’ she’d told him once. She gave a small wave, her face deeply troubled, before she turned back inside. 

“So, uh, none of us knew about that.”

 _“How?”_ Cove burst as he spun back to her. “You literally live with him! How did you not notice how empty his room was?”

“He installed a lock on it himself! He said he was tired of us invading his privacy! Which, fine, I _did_ do that a lot, and so did moms, but… I don’t know, we didn’t think it was that weird!”

“How did he get all of his things out of that room without anyone noticing? He even removed a desk and a _bookcase,_ for crying out loud!”

“I don’t _know!”_ Liz almost shrieked. “If I _did_ know, I wouldn’t be yelling at _you_ right now!”

That made Cove falter. She was right. Yelling at each other wasn’t going to make any of this suddenly okay.

Her voice hiccupped. “You know, when your dad asked if we knew anything about that, moms wanted to see the room themselves. Mr. Holden literally had to break the lock for us to go inside and when we saw it…”

Cove frowned. Liz was definitely crying now. Her hands reached up to brush her tears away; she clearly didn’t care about her makeup anymore. She sniffed.

“Saw what?”

“That empty room wasn’t the only thing we found.”

Sudden dread pricked Cove’s spine. “What do you mean?”

Liz sniffed. She put her head in her hands. “He left a note, Cove. My baby brother is trying to kill himself.”

The words were like an alarm going off. Cove put his head in his hand, mind flashing back to all their various interactions over the summer. Every time, there’d been a sign. Every single time, there had been something, however small, and if you added them all up… 

_— “Nothing.”_

_“Nothing?” —_

“That bastard.”

“What — COVE!”

Before he knew what he was doing, he was moving. He raced along the street in his formal wear, his shoes slapping against the pavement. Shoes. _Shoes!_ Before he could think twice about it, he was ripping them off and casting them aside so they couldn’t slow him down.

He knew this was stupid. His hunch on where Jackson was was probably all wrong. Surely everyone would’ve looked here already. But Cove _knew_ Jackson. Even if they weren’t friends, Cove could knew that Jackson drew the beach and the ocean more often than he drew anything else. If there was anywhere Jackson would choose to do something like this, it would be there.

It didn’t take Cove long to arrive at the beach. The wet sand clung to his feet and got between his toes. Cove immediately unbuttoned his shirt and threw it to the ground. He pulled his slacks down as well, wishing he’d thought to grab his swim trunks — but the thought was gone nearly as soon as he had it. His attention focused on the waves, searching through the dark for any sign of unusual activity.

He knew, from his training, that drowning was not always characterized by thrashing about, like it was in the movies. That was aquatic distress and preceded the actual drowning, which could be much subtler. Someone drowning might not even appear to be in danger, but it required immediate action.

For several long, terrifying moments, there was nothing. Cove started to believe maybe he’d been wrong, and his heart sunk. Then, with a turn of his head, he saw it. Much further down the beach — farther from where the usual hangout spot, but not quite far enough to be out of eyesight — he saw it.

Jackson was holding something in his hands, still in the clothes he’d worn at the event. He stood on the sandbar, just before the depth of the ocean plummeted. Cove couldn’t make out his face from here, or see what, exactly, he had in his hands, but he was already moving towards him. 

There was some movement, and then, Jackson sank into the water like a rock.

Cove was sprinting towards him before he could think about it. As his foot hit the water, the movement stopped. Jackson stopped.

Cove breached into the deep water and immediately submerged. Breath held, he swam straight for the body in sight. Jackson was still thrashing wildly — which was good, Cove thought, that he hadn’t completely obliterated his survival instincts — and then Cove saw what he’d been holding, what was dragging him down.

Tied to Jackson’s ankle was a cinderblock.

Cove didn’t have time to think about it. The first thing he set about doing was untying it. Jackson was struggling, kicking, flailing, and Cove couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t want the help, or if he was just reacting, his survival instinct kicking in. It took too much time to untie it, his nails scratching against Jackson’s skin. Jackson was sinking, and Cove had to go further down to continue attempting to untie, and Cove was running out of air.

When Jackson’s movements stopped — when he went limp, like he was already dead — Cove was finally able to yank the rope away. The cinderblock sank. He grabbed him from behind, arms fitting underneath his armpits, and kicked both of them towards the surface as fast as he could.

Cove gasped desperately for air as they finally broke the water. Jackson did not. He pulled Jackson towards the sandbar, and then, after a brief moment of respite where Cove struggled to get the rest of his breath, towards _land._

Finally, they reached the beach, and Cove had to bodily drag Jackson from the water and towards safe ground, out of the ocean’s reach. Liz rushed forward, her eyes on her brother and tears in her eyes.

“Call 911!” 

Cove didn’t look to see if she was doing it. He tilted Jackson’s chin back and put his ear to Jackson’s mouth. Nothing. 

_Fuck._

Then he began the chest compressions. He’d done the training so many times that he’d memorized it to a T, terrified that he wouldn’t be able to remember it if he’d really needed it. Press at a rate of one hundred beats per minute. Be prepared to break a rib. A broken rib was better than… 

_I’m not going to let you die,_ he thought vehemently. _I refuse to let you die._

At thirty compressions, he stopped. He leaned over, held Jackson’s nose shut, forced air in through his mouth. One hand rested on Jackson’s chest to ensure it expanded. Then he watched for breathing. 

Nothing.

Repeat.

 _You must think you’re so clever,_ Cove thought, and it was unfair, how his eyes were watering and he couldn’t tell if it was because he was so angry or because he was so terrified. _You must think you’re going to get what you want, huh? You planned everything out to the last detail. Don’t leave us anything to have to clean out of your room. Do it on a night no one is expecting you home until late. Don’t leave us a body to have to bury._

 _Should’ve planned on_ me.

Suddenly Jackson’s chest was expanding on its own. Cove yanked his hands away just as Jackson coughed — aggressively, water spraying everywhere. Cove backed up to give him space as Jackson turned onto his side and vomited mostly water onto the shore. His breaths were shaking, erratic, heaving lungfuls as if he could not possibly intake fast enough.

“What…” His voice was rasping, aching. Liz immediately started forward, but Cove shot an arm out, stopping her.

“Cove—”

“No, give him space.”

When Jackson raised his head, water was still dripping from his blue hair. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, his eyes searching, unfocused, until they landed on Cove.

There only sounds in the air were that of the crashing ocean and distant sirens.

“Y-you aren’t supposed to be here,” Jackson whispered, pushing himself upright. He nearly fell over again, too weak to properly hold himself up. “You’re… you’re here too early.”

“Too _early?”_

Cove’s voice thundered across the beach as he stood. “What the hell, Jackson! I just saved your _life!_ If I’d gotten here a moment later, you’d be _dead._ What is it about that that is just so _inconvenient_ to you?”

Jackson grit his teeth. He buried his head in his hands and let out a sudden shriek. _“No!_ No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go!”

“Jackson,” Liz whispered.

“You aren’t supposed to find me.” It was difficult to see, in the dark, with Jackson’s hands on his face, but from the shaking of his shoulders, Cove knew he was crying. “Fuck. You’re supposed to let me go. You aren’t supposed to…”

“What, to _care?”_

Jackson’s head snapped up to meet Cove’s gaze. “It took me an hour,” he whispered, harshly, not answering the question.

Cove scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“I stood on that sandbar and I… I have never been so scared of anything in my life, and I knew it was going to hurt, and to get up the courage was…”

“I’m not going to apologize for ruining your _plan to kill yourself_ _.”_

Jackson’s face contorted into a sob. He pushed himself up to stand and immediately wavered. Liz was at his side not a second later, her arms wrapping around him, pressing herself into his shirt. Jackson wrapped his arms around her in turn.

Flashing lights from behind them and the nearby blare of the siren caused Cove to turn. Sure enough, the EMTs had arrived. When Jackson saw them, his eyes widened, and he pushed back from Liz. “N-no. No, I don’t need this, I don’t… I don’t want to be…”

“You’re going to be a burden whether you want to be or not,” Cove said. Jackson looked at him imploringly. “You’re going to the hospital in that ambulance. Drowning can have complications.”

So could suicide attempts.

As the EMTs approached, Jackson looked more frightened than Cove had ever seen him. For a moment, Cove thought he might run. He found himself preparing to chase him down, but then they caught each other’s gaze, and Jackson visibly deflated. 

There was the sound of footsteps, and they all turned to see Jackson’s moms and Cliff approaching at a run. “Jackson! My baby!”

Noelani barreled into him, wrapping her arms around him and sobbing into him, holding his head into her neck. Cove softened a little as he watched Jackson’s other mom approach and do the same. All three of them were crying as they hugged him.

Cliff came forward, too, and set a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. When Jackson looked up, Cliff offered him a small, sad smile. “Kid… It’s gonna be okay.”

Jackson didn’t say anything to that. He glanced away from everyone, his cries dying down now, and turned to the EMT.

“Hello, my name is Alexis, and I’m an emergency medical technician,” she said as she approached. “I am trained to assist you and I am here to help you. Are you the patient?”

Her eyes were on Jackson, no doubt cued by everyone rushing him. Jackson bowed his head and nodded, solemnly.

“He tried to drown himself,” Liz said. There were tears in her eyes, but she spoke bravely, her voice unwavering. “He nearly did.”

“We’re going to take you to the emergency room,” said Alexis with some compassion in her voice. “And we will need to take some readings on the way. I can only allow one family member to accompany you.”

“I’ll go,” Liz said immediately. She looked to her moms. “Is that all right?”

“I’m so sorry, Liz,” Noelani said with a shake of her head. “I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to,” Jackson mumbled.

“We are going to talk about this at the hospital,” Pam said, her stern, maternal voice coming out as she looked at her son. “We are going to talk about this, and we are going to make sure you’re okay.”

Jackson dipped his head in acknowledgement before he, Noelani, and the emergency responder all piled into the vehicle.

As the ambulance drove off, Cliff turned to the remaining party and offered them the same smile he’d offered Jackson. “Well? Shall we take my car?”

-

When they arrived, Noelani had been banished from Jackson’s room in the ICU. It took hours for the hospital to allow visitors in. In the interim, Cove was subjected to the third degree.

“How did you know something was wrong?”

“I didn’t,” Cove said, “I just knew it was a weird thing to do. To get rid of all your things like that. To have enough money to buy the ticket without a job.”

“What happened when you found him?”

“He was trying to drown himself by tying a cinderblock to his leg and jumping into the ocean.”

Noelani sucked in a sharp breath and put her head in her hands, her crying renewed. Pam wrapped her arms around her. Cove wondered if maybe he should have left that part out.

“Drowning is such a painful way to go…” Cliff grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. He’d done that so many times now that it wasn’t even properly in its ponytail, but no one called him on it. “Poor kid.”

“What a dumbass,” Liz muttered. Everyone turned to her with wide eyes, and she scowled. “Remember his note? He couldn’t have been more wrong.”

Cove frowned. “You mentioned that note. What did it say?”

Jackson’s moms both looked away at that. Cliff winced. Liz was the one who reached into her purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper. When Cove accepted it from her, he saw that Jackson had written it down on the backside of one of his artworks of the ocean.

This one was not of the beach they knew. It was a ship, stranded in a storm.

In the letter, Jackson wrote that he was consistently terrified, consistently lonely. He saw himself as a burden to others without any inherent value, that his debt to them was far too great to repay. He wrote that he didn’t _want_ people to care about him; that he was fine with the way things were, and that he was going to make sure he didn’t cause them any trouble ever again.

It was bizarre in how far from reality he seemed to be. Cove frowned and put his head in his hands. Even if he was depressed — something Cove, admittedly, did not know much about — surely he could look at his moms and his sister and see just how loved he was?

What was it that hadn’t clicked for him?

When the door to the room opened, everyone immediately stood. The nurse had an odd look on her face when she saw the lot of them. “Family only at this time,” she said.

“We’re all family,” Noelani insisted.

 _“Immediate_ family,” the nurse corrected.

Pam withheld a sigh and turned to Cove and Cliff. “Please wait here,” she said. 

“Of course,” Cliff and Cove said together.

With that, the Rowes made their way into the room.

-

Cliff took a few minutes to make a call. Though he stepped further down the hall so Cove wouldn’t overhear, Cove knew his father well enough by now. He could tell from the frantic pacing, the way he was running his hand through his hair repeatedly, the slump of his shoulders… That was definitely Kyra that Cliff was talking to. 

He always called her when he needed comfort.

Cove pulled his knees up onto the hard metal chair and rested his cheek against them. His eyes stayed on his father, even with his glasses pushed up and unable to focus on him. 

It hadn’t always been like that. There was a time, still fresh in his memory, that Kyra and Cliff hadn’t been able to even look at each other without spitting acid. They’d come a long way in the past decade to be able to trust one another like this.

After what must have been fifteen minutes, Cliff made his way back over. Cove sat up, glasses falling into place. He was expecting Cliff to want to talk with him, but instead he just held out his phone. When Cove met his eyes, he saw that Cliff had been crying. He wasn’t, anymore, but there was a sheen to his eyes that suggested he was making an effort not to. “It’s your mom, kiddo. She wants to talk to you.”

Cove took the phone and pressed it to his ear. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to say. When Cliff sat back down next to him, there was a soft look on his face, and Cove bit back a sigh. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, baby.” Kyra’s voice was normally a croon, a swan song, a lullaby without a melody. Now it felt more like a dirge. “Your daddy told me what’s going on. How are you?”

Cove glanced around. The digital clock on the wall read, in blaring red letters, _3:46._

“Tired.”

“I bet. He told me all about how you literally jumped into the ocean to save your friend. That must have been really scary.”

“Mmm.”

Cove wasn’t sure how to answer that. He hadn’t had time to process any of the things he’d been feeling in that moment. He could only act. But at the same time, he’d felt so many emotions and thought so many things that if he’d been a motherboard, he would have fried. He furrowed his brow, mouth twisting, and looked at his lap.

“Mom…”

“Talk to me, baby.”

Cove opened his mouth. He should be able to talk about it. Right? He’d just done that with the Rowes without any problem. But they’d only been asking about Jackson. 

They hadn’t been asking about _him._

“I-I don’t know if I can.”

His voice shook. Cliff was already wrapping an arm around him, pulling him in close. When did his vision get so blurry? His glasses were back on, right?

“Mmm…” Kyra hummed into his ear. “I don’t know if this is something we should shelve, sweetie.”

“I think I’m just tired. I’m just… so tired.”

“Do you need to go home and sleep? You can do that, if you want. The Rowes will understand. You saved him, Cove. Without you, he wouldn’t be here.”

Cove sucked in a sharp breath and pulled the phone away. His father’s eyes were on him, but Cove didn’t think he could do this. He wasn’t ready to have this conversation. Kyra’s voice rang from the device, distorted, and Cove couldn’t process it. With a sigh, Cliff plucked the phone from his hands and held it to his own ear. 

“Sorry, Kyra. I appreciate it. I think we’re gonna head home and get some shut-eye, but I’ll let them know first… Yeah. Thanks. I’ll keep you updated.”

-

Cove slept late into the next day. He was plagued by nightmares too formless to articulate and he woke intermittently. Even though he didn’t truly wake until one o’clock, he wouldn’t at all say he was well rested.

What woke him up was not his father, or the sound of his alarm. It was his phone ringing. He answered it without looking at the caller, pressing the pads of his thumbs into his eyes. “Hello?”

“Hello, Cove. I’m sorry, did we wake you?”

Cove shot upright, blinking the sleep from his eyes. That voice… “Oh, uh, Mrs. Rowe. Hi…” His face flushed at being caught sleeping in, but she laughed softly.

Pam sounded exhausted.

Everything rushed back into him at once. His voice caught in his throat and he bit his lip. Why did he feel ashamed for sleeping when she sounded as if she hadn’t gotten a wink?

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but Jackson is asking for you.” 

He froze. He thought of the way he’d snapped at Jackson last night, how fear and concern had bred into an anger he hadn’t known he was capable of. Guilt sunk deep into his stomach like concrete into the ocean.

“Is he… angry?”

“He was, at first.” Pam’s frankness was refreshing at times, but right now, Cove wasn’t sure he wanted to be told so blatantly. “He’s not anymore. He’s still in the ICU and he wanted to just speak to you over the phone, but… I think it would be better for the two of you to speak face to face.”

Cove was grateful. As much as he was not looking forward to this conversation, he found being able to look at someone’s face made reading their emotions easier. He let out a small sigh. “All right. I’ll head over.”

“Eat before you do,” she advised, her tone strict and maternal. “Cliff is already here.”

Was Cove the only one who needed to sleep?

He checked his phone before finally getting out of bed. He’d gotten a text from Miranda: _Hey, are you okay? I don’t really know what happened, and the only source of info I have is a Facebook post, so I thought I’d check in._ There was a whole series from Terri, who was much more prone to gossip. The most recent one read: _PLZ TELL ME UR NOT DEAD!!_

Cove didn’t have the focus to respond right now, so he just locked his phone.

After a meal of Pop-Tarts and a quick shower, Cove was on his way. After dressing, he glanced out the window.

He spotted Liz sitting on the front doorstep of the Rowes’ house in her pajamas, her hair askew, a mug in her hands. Coffee, maybe. A neighbor approached Liz with some sort of dish in her hand. Liz took it gratefully, bowing her head with a smile on her face. They spoke for a few minutes, and Cove didn’t have to guess what they about. When the neighbor finally left, Liz took the dish inside. She was back out on the step a moment later — not even long enough to put it in the fridge.

Word traveled fast in this tiny town. 

He finally came down. Cove stopped by the car and glanced towards Liz across the street. When she realized he was looking at her, she offered him a wave. He returned it. Despite its lack of any real comfort, the smile on her face was genuine. Sad, yes, but it was different from the one she’d given the neighbor.

He hoped she’d be all right.

-

Cove found Pam sitting outside the hospital room. She looked up from her phone as she approached and stood. The look on her face was much more grim than the one Liz had had.

“Hey, Cove. Sorry it’s just me. Lani is at home. We’re… taking shifts, I guess.”

Cove nodded. It made sense that they didn’t want to leave Jackson alone. He glanced around. “Where’s Dad?”

Pam gestured toward the door. Cove raised his eyebrows. “By himself?”

“Believe it or not, I trust him.” Pam sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “And… I don’t know. I guess he might know something about this. So take a seat. He might be another minute.”

Cove never thought he’d be asking himself this, but as he looked towards the door, he wondered just what his dad knew about suicide.

-

It felt like an eternity, sitting in that chair, but maybe the ten minutes felt that much longer because Cove was obsessively checking the time. Wondering how much he had left.

Wondering what he should even say to Jackson.

_What should I do? Apologize?_

No. That didn’t make any sense. Cove had saved him. Though, he hadn’t wanted to be saved. Pam had said that Jackson had been angry ‘at first.’ What did that mean? Did that mean he was not angry anymore? Or did that mean that he just wasn’t going to show it?

_Should I take back any of the things I said?_

But when Cove thought about it, there wasn’t a lot of things he felt like taking back. Sure, it had been a heated, emotionally charged moment… but none of what Cove said was untrue or an exaggeration.

Maybe he should let Jackson speak first.

When the door finally opened and Cliff walked out, he didn’t look surprised to see Cove there. He only smiled that haggard smile of his. “All right, kiddo. Your turn.”

Cove swallowed, phone slipping back into his pocket. “By myself?”

Pam snorted humorlessly. “Even if Jackson hadn’t asked for that himself, you’re the only reason my son is still alive. I trust you right now more than I trust him.”

Cove chewed on his bottom lip, unsure how to react to something like that. Instead, he stood and walked inside, letting his dad shut the door behind him.

The first thing that occurred to Cove was how, even a setting like this — with its white, sterile walls and tiled floors, furniture scattered — even a setting like this was livelier than Jackson’s room was right now. Cove looked to the bed and felt his heart twist. On the table next to Jackson were several bouquets and a large, plush teddy bear holding a plush heart.

When Cove brought himself to actually look at Jackson… he wasn’t surprised to see that Jackson was already looking at him. Jackson had a million wires hooked up to him, all over the place to various different machines — some of which made consistent noises, like the heartbeat monitor — but the most blatant one was the oxygen mask set over his mouth. 

“Hey,” Cove greeted, his voice softer than it should’ve been.

Jackson nodded. For a split second, Cove’s heart fell at what he thought must’ve been a rejection… until Jackson, arms still under a heavy blanket, gestured to the chair directly next to his bed. It was pulled back a little, and Cove could imagine this was the seat his father had been sitting in just a moment before. 

“Take it.” His voice came out processed through the oxygen mask, like it might have over the phone. Cove sat without another thought. Jackson turned away, suddenly incredibly interested in fidgeting.

“I just…” Jackson inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “I don’t know why I wanted to see you. Sorry.”

Cove blinked. “You… aren’t angry at me?”

Jackson shook his head. “You were doing what you thought was right. I can’t fault you for that.”

Something about his wording pricked at him. Cove scowled, and it was odd how easy it was for him to forget anxiety when his anger was flaring. “Why do you say that like it wasn’t?”

“Huh?”

“Like it _wasn’t_ right?”

Cove was watching Jackson intently now. He watched his Adam’s apple bob. He was considering his next words. 

“You know, they aren’t observing me to, uh… make sure I don’t… do anything again.”

The words were shaking, but Cove recognized them for what they were: an olive branch. Even if it was a change of subject. Cove folded his arms, leaned back in his chair, and made the conscious choice to allow it. “Yeah, I know. Nearly drowning like that can cause all kinds of stuff to go wrong with you.”

Jackson sighed. “Yeah. My lungs still aren’t working quite right, so they’re making sure I don’t develop something permanent.” Then, without looking at him: “If you hadn’t been there, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“…What?”

“If you hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be suffering right now.”

“If I hadn’t been there, you wouldn’t be _anything_ right now.”

“That’s the point.” Jackson raised his head to stare up at the ceiling. “I’m just… so tired of everything. Of feeling. Of being in pain. Of having to talk to people who I know don’t like me.”

Cove frowned at that one. Was that directed at him?

“I know they say drowning sucks. Your dad said that while he was in here, as if I don’t know that firsthand. But that was the point. I _wanted_ my… I wanted it to be as painful as possible. Then I could’ve said I earned my rest.”

“That doesn’t make _sense,”_ Cove snapped. 

Jackson cracked a smile. “It does to me.”

“No, I mean—” Cove swallowed. He was trying to reel that anger in. “I mean, Jackson, that there isn’t such a thing as _‘earning’_ death. Everyone dies. Some people sooner than others, some people more painfully. Death is not something you have to earn, it is your _right.”_

Jackson frowned, twisting to finally look at Cove. “I… what? Then what the hell? Why did you _stop me?”_

“Because—!” Cove gritted his teeth. He didn’t know what he was trying to say, only that he had to say it. “Because you don’t have the right to decide _when_ you go. There are people here who _love_ you. People here who adore you and would _mourn_ you. You don’t get to abandon them like that. You don’t get to just leave them and hurt them because you feel like life is hard.”

Jackson flinched. “It — wait, it’s _more_ than that — but also, that was the whole point of trying to sink, so that my body wouldn’t be found—”

 _“Was_ it?” Cove demanded. “Or was that to make sure you didn’t give in to your instincts?”

Silence, then, rang throughout the room.

“I saw the way you thrashed as you sank. I saw the way you struggled. Your body was trying to survive no matter what you were thinking.”

“I planned for that,” Jackson said, every word suddenly stiff. “I knew that would happen and so I planned for it.”

“Right.” Cove bit back a laugh. “You planned for everything _so_ well, didn’t you? Except you didn’t. Because if everything had happened according to your plan, you wouldn’t be here.”

Jackson blinked. “Excuse me?”

“If everything had gone according to plan, _I_ wouldn’t have been there. But you know why I was?”

“Why?”

“Because I remembered your room. I remembered how bare it was, how it had gotten more and more like that over the summer. How you had all that money to buy that ticket when you shouldn’t have had any. I remembered how your walls used to be covered floor to ceiling in those drawings you did of the ocean, like a chronicle of how far you’d come since you were a kid. But something changed in you, and I noticed it. You _weren’t_ nothing to me, even when you _wanted_ to be. And last night…” 

Shit, had it really been just last night? It already felt like a lifetime ago, and at the same time, like it was happening right before his eyes. “Last night when I got back, people were already looking for you. I bet your family prepared to confront you about it the moment you got home, but of course, you never went home. If you had, then _you_ wouldn’t be here right now; you’d be somewhere else… a ward, or maybe even in your own room. Somewhere safe and unharmed. So the fact that you’re sitting there, trying to blame _me_ for the way your lungs are failing you right now? I’ve got to laugh at that, Jackson, because from the very beginning, the only person you have to blame for that is _you.”_

Cove had gone for too long. He realized that maybe he had been too harsh. Maybe he should take the words back, while they’re still fresh. But then he realized the look he was seeing now on Jackson’s face was not anger.

It was… something else. Sadness. Remorse. Anguish. All of those emotions were bubbling to the surface, and suddenly Jackson was crying. No, not just crying; he was absolutely _bawling._

Cove froze. He wondered if he should get someone. But as he rose, nearly stumbling, Jackson reached out and snatched the sleeve of his shirt, the blanket slipping.

“Fuck, Cove,” Jackson whispered between heaving sobs. “Fuck. I hate you so much right now because I know you’re right.”

His lungs still weren’t quite working right. He was sobbing too hard for the capacity he had, and his heartbeat monitor was beginning to pick up the pace. Cove swallowed. “Sorry. I…”

Slowly, he sat back down. Jackson didn’t let go of his shirt, and Cove wasn’t quite sure what to do about that.

“You don’t have to apologize, you dumbass,” Jackson whimpered as he wiped his nose on his hospital gown. “I’m not gonna thank you, either. But man… you always know how to point a mirror at me right when I don’t wanna see myself. I’ve always hated that about you.”

Cove glanced down at the hand on his shirt.

Mixed signals…? Was that what they called this?

“I don’t know exactly what to say to that,” Cove said, carefully, “except that I want you to know that I have never hated you, Jackson.”

Jackson jerked his head towards him, eyes wide. “What?”

“I think even to say that I disliked you would be a stretch.” Cove was surprised to hear himself nearly laughing. Was he delirious? He pushed his hand up to wipe at the wetness on his face and realized he was crying, too. “Would I say I liked you? No. But… but I did _care._ I _do_ care. You’re a neighbor to me, and I’ve known you for longer than I haven’t… so no matter how I feel about you, you’re my _family,_ Jackson. Whether you want to be or not.”

Jackson released Cove’s sleeve. For a moment, Cove thought he’d said something stupid — that Jackson was so bewildered by that response that he was outright rejecting it — but instead, Jackson shifted. He was reaching out, blanket settling, until his hand rested on Cove’s shoulder. When Cove met his eyes he saw the weirdest thing ever.

Jackson was asking him for a hug.

“Cove, I…” His voice wavered. He sounded more fragile than ever. “…I’m sorry I put you through all this shit.”

Cove blinked. He hadn’t been expecting an apology. He didn’t know what to do with it. It didn’t make all of what had happened last night disappear, and it didn’t make it any easier for Cove to recall what happened without feeling like he himself was drowning.

But, somehow, it did help with the weight on his shoulders.

Cove stood and closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Jackson as well as he could with all the wires. “I’m not going to say it’s okay, because it isn’t,” Cove said, his head resting on top of Jackson’s. “And I’m not going to say I forgive you, because I don’t. But promise me you aren’t going to do this again.”

Nothing. Jackson tensed, as if expecting Cove to snap at him again. Cove bit back a sigh and tried again. “Promise me that… that if you _do_ start to think about this kind of thing again… you’ll come find me. Okay?”

“Okay.” That seemed to come so much easier to Jackson, who let out a deep exhale, relaxing into Cove’s grip. “Okay. I… I can do that. Just promise me you won’t yell at me if I do.”

“I won’t.” Cove tightened his hold on him. “We won’t even have to talk about it, if you don’t want to. I just want to make sure you aren’t alone when you’re like that. That you know you have someone, even if it’s… just me. Okay?”

Jackson sniffed. “Man. You don’t have to say it like that. I don’t really hate you, I’m just being an asshole.”

The admission startled Cove so much, he laughed. Jackson looked up, the hug breaking, as Cove turned away, struggling to hide the bright smile on his face. “Cove—?”

“You _are_ kind of an asshole,” Cove said between snickers. “Bold of you to admit it.”

Jackson huffed, but Cove couldn’t have missed the smile growing on his face if he’d tried. “Bold of you to assume I didn’t know already.”

Then they were both laughing. It was a relieved sound, Cove thought, as the tension between them finally crumbled. A sweet sound.

It wouldn’t be easy. There was a reason they hadn’t gotten on before this. But Cove knew that, at the very least, it was a new start. For Jackson, and for the two of them together.

He wondered what Terri would say about it.

Cove blinked. “Oh. I forgot, I have to text Terri and Miranda. I guess there’s a rumor going around that we both died.”

Jackson looked at Cove with both eyebrows raised, the smile becoming a more permanent fixture on his face. “I wonder who came up with that?”

“Probably the same person who said the art teacher’s an international thief.”

Jackson snickered. Cove sighed as he pulled his phone out. Somehow, Jackson was almost… at ease. It was odd, the way he was relaxing after all their years of distance.

And Cove, for the life of him, couldn’t puzzle out why. 

-

Jackson would be released from the hospital the next morning, if the day went well. Cove did not envy him; he could only imagine how suffocating his moms would be after all this. On Cove’s way out, he bumped into Baxter Ward, carrying a bouquet of various white flowers.

Including poppies. Hm. Whether he knew the significance of them or not was up in the air.

“Hello, Cove,” Baxter greeted. He offered Cove a small smile, and Cove tried to offer one in return.

Baxter was still much too forward for Cove’s liking. If he didn’t get on so well with Terri, Cove would’ve made an effort not to see him again after their initial meeting. But this circumstance was… different.

“I didn’t realize you were particularly close to Jackson,” Cove said. After it came out of his mouth, he realized it was probably a rude thing to say.

Baxter took it in stride nonetheless, unflappable as always. “I have only known him for the summer. To say we are close would be inaccurate, at best. But…” 

Baxter paused, eyes drifting to the flowers in his hands. Then he looked up. “Well, suffice it to say, I would not like to have to mourn anyone at all.”

That was a sentiment Cove could agree with. He nodded, then gestured behind him. “Uh, do you need his room number? I could give it to you…”

“Hold on.” Cove frowned. Baxter was eyeing him in a decidedly different way than he had when they first met. This gaze was not appreciative or flirtatious; it was as if Baxter was trying to pry him open with just a look. “You are the one who saved him, yes?”

Cove nodded.

“How are you doing?”

Cove sighed. “Baxter…”

“I’m not saying you have to open up to me about it,” Baxter said airily. “I am well aware of your opinions on me. But you look like the walking dead. You may not be the one who’s suicidal, but that doesn’t mean this didn’t affect you. Take some time. Ease off the gas. We may not be close, but… I do care about you, too.”

Cove blinked.

It sounded eerily similar to what he’d said to Jackson.

And then it occurred to Cove, too, that even if they weren’t friends… even if he couldn’t call Baxter _family…_ this was something much simpler than all that.

This was community.

All Baxter did was show Cove that he was here for him, too; all he did was extend an arm and offer his kindness. 

A week ago — no, a _day_ ago — Cove would never have thought this, but… maybe Baxter actually fit into the sleepy town of Sunset Bird just fine.

“Thank you,” Cove said at last. Baxter smiled, looking pleased. “The same goes for you.”

Baxter raised a brow, clearly surprised. “You are too kind.”

“I know summer is ending. You’ll be leaving soon, won’t you?” It was a shame, Cove thought.

Baxter waved his free hand. “Perhaps. But that is not today’s problem.”

“I’ll be going now. It was good to see you.”

“Likewise.”

-

Cove spent the rest of the day with Liz on her front porch. When he arrived, she had changed into some overalls and a crop top which, while not her usual style, she still managed to look totally at ease in it. She smiled at him when he approached and offered him a seat beside her, and together they fended off concerned and gossipy neighbors. 

Cliff was away from the house for hours. Noelani left the Rowes’ and ten minutes later Pam was arriving home. Cliff’s car still did not materialize in the driveway.

“Your dad’s been gone a while,” Liz commented, quietly. 

Cove nodded. “He was still at the hospital when I left. I think this whole thing hit him pretty hard.”

“He’s always liked Jackson.” She sighed and put her head in her hand, propped up by her elbow on her knee. “I don’t know. I wanna be there for Jackson, too, but it isn’t right to run yourself ragged like that. That’ll just make Jackson feel like shit, and he already feels like a burden, you know?”

Cove hadn’t thought of that. “Have you told your moms that?”

“I would, but…” Liz frowned. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem right to tell them how to do things. Not that I’ve, like, ever had trouble with that before, but this is different. This is _big._ This is Jackson and he nearly _died.”_

Suddenly she stood and stretched. Cove watched her idly. “Okay, I think I’m done for today,” she announced. There was a determination in her voice that said she wasn’t going to be talking about that any further. “All the other neighbors can just leave their food at the door. I want to start getting his room ready.”

Cove blinked. “…his room?”

It clicked. Cove wondered what Jackson would think, if he returned to his absolutely empty room. Would it be good, to see that it was just as he had left it? Or would he be hurt to know no one had had the courage to enter it?

“I’m not gonna do a whole lot. I don’t want him to worry about how much work or money it was or whatever. But I think I want to, like… repaint the walls. You know, his favorite color’s seafoam green.”

Reflexively, Cove reached up to touch at his hair. Liz smirked widely, and Cove found himself blushing.

“I’m just going to prime them. Jackson can pick the color when he’s back.”

 _Oh._ She was just teasing him. For some reason, that made him breathe a little easier. “Did… did you want help?”

“That is _so_ sweet of you to offer.” Liz thought about it. “You know what? Sure. Then maybe I can get done at a decent hour. I’ll treat you to dinner in return.”

Cove smiled and got to his feet, as well. “I couldn’t ask for a better deal,” he said, as if the Rowes had ever once let him leave their property without putting food in his belly. “Let’s get started.”

-

They’d been at it for a few hours. It was nearing dinnertime and they’d managed to get most of the room. Cove was realizing, now, that perhaps priming had been a bad idea. The colors of the walls had been one of the few pops of color here, and now it was as white as those hotel walls.

It was too late to back out, though.

“Hey, kiddos!”

They both turned to see Cliff in the doorway with a toolbox in hand. Cliff was smiling, but there was something apologetic in his eyes. “What’s up? Y’all getting hungry?”

Cove blinked and realized all he’d had that day were two Pop-Tarts. Not exactly a breakfast of champions, and his stomach gurgled in response.

Liz laughed, but Cliff narrowed his eyes. “Cove, have you eaten?”

“I… had breakfast,” Cove hedged. 

It was difficult to remember to eat during times like these. Cliff nodded, as if he understood, and didn’t offer any further chiding. 

“I guess it is getting close to dinner,” Liz murmured, slowly setting her roller back in the pan. “We should eat.”

“Don’t you dare suggest those casseroles,” Cliff chuckled. “Dinner will be on me tonight.”

Liz blinked. “Wh… Mr. Holden, I don’t know…”

“It’s too late. I already ordered the pizza.” At Liz’s bewildered look, Cliff shrugged. “What? Visiting hours are ending soon, and soon everyone will be all in one place. You can think about reheating all the neighbors’ dishes tomorrow.”

Liz laughed and turned to Cove. “So much for me treating you to dinner, huh?”

Cove shrugged. “I’ll take pizza.” He gestured towards his father with the roller in hand. “What are you doing here with that, Dad?”

“Oh, this?” Cliff looked at his toolbox. “Well… The Mrs.’s asked me to do them a favor.”

Cliff rubbed at the back of his neck and averted his eyes. Cove followed his gaze and saw he was looking at the door.

“Oh,” Cove said suddenly. “Are you fixing the door?” He had broken in the lock, after all.

“Yeah.” Cliff sighed. “And… I’m also gonna be just removing the lock entirely. I don’t think it’s gonna be great for Jackson to return to… He might take it to mean his family doesn’t have any faith in him. But I think it’s better than the alternative.”

“The alternative?” Liz asked.

Cliff somehow managed to make his smile look like a wince. “They originally wanted me to take down the entire door.”

All three of them grimaced. 

“Liz, do you mind letting your moms know dinner’s on the way?” Cliff said. Cove blinked and exchanged a look with her.

Even though he and Liz had never gotten on, it was clear that his suggestion was just as transparent to her as it was to him.

“Sure,” she said as if she didn’t care, getting to her feet. “I deserve a break anyway.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Cliff stepped out of the way to allow her to slip by. Cove still held the roller in his hand, and he turned to look at the work that was left.

It was just one wall. That wasn’t so bad, compared to what they’d done so far. He dipped the roller back into the primer.

“You know,” Cliff said, beginning a conversation as if they’d been talking this whole time, “Jackson was in a better mood after the two of you talked.”

That’s right, Cove thought. Cliff had been talking to him for a while before Cove had gotten there.

“What did the two of you talk about?” Cove asked.

Cliff sighed. There was the sound of the drill, and Cove let it fill the silence as they both worked. When it was done, there was the sound of other tools. Finally, Cliff said, “Look… I guess I should’ve talked with you about this before now. ’Cuz the last thing I want is for my kid to not feel like he can come to me.”

Cove blinked, pausing, as he turned to look at his father. Cliff was not looking at him, eyes on his work. “Dad, I don’t feel like that. I mean, I don’t feel like I can’t…”

“I know.” Cliff shrugged. “But I’m gonna say it anyway. Listen. I know I probably seem super chill and tough and like I can do no wrong…”

Cove scoffed. The last part had been said ironically, and Cliff’s chuckle told Cove he’d given the right response. “…but my head’s been in some pretty dark places. I’m a lot better now, but there was a time when I was in Jackson’s shoes.”

That made Cove frown. This must not have happened during Cove’s lifetime. He would’ve remembered something like that. “Really?”

“Yep. So… I mean, I’m just letting you know that I’ve been there.” Cliff winced. “Man, this is coming out just as awkward as it did with him. I’m not trying to make this about me, you know? But when I say I get it, I mean it. I _get it,_ on a level a lot of other people can’t.”

“You aren’t making it about you,” Cove said quietly. 

There was the sound of tools again, as Cliff continued. He must have thought this conversation was too awkward or something like that, but Cove didn’t get that feeling at all. He found himself looking at his father and thinking he must have come so, so far to be where he’s at now.

“You know, Dad, I…” Cove’s voice hitched, and that was what got Cliff to look up and toward him. Cove blinked. “I just want you to know that I love you. You know?”

“Aw, kid,” Cliff whispered, his own voice suddenly shaking. “C’mon over here, now.” And Cove came to his father’s side, and Cliff set the tools down and wrapped Cove in his arms, holding him as tight as he had when Cove was small.

“I love you too, and don’t you dare forget it.”

“Is it true…?”

“Hmm?”

“What Mom and… and the Rowes have been saying.” Suddenly Cove felt very vulnerable. “About how I’m the only reason Jackson is still alive.”

This time, the silence was not punctuated by the sound of activity. The only noise between them was that of their own breaths and heartbeats. Cove swallowed and wondered if he shouldn’t have said anything. Cliff took a deep breath and squeezed him.

“To be honest, kid… I don’t know. There’s no way to know, because you _were_ there. And no one can say what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been.”

Cove furrowed his brow as he thought of the cinderblock tied to Jackson’s ankle. He thought that maybe they could.

“I mean it,” Cliff insisted, as if he could hear the disbelief in Cove’s head. “You don’t know if Jackson could have gotten free — if that rope could’ve come untied or snapped in the water, or if the part he’d fallen into was deep enough for him to not be able to resurface. No one has that kind of clairvoyance. But you know…”

Cliff sighed. “But you know, I’m glad you were. It must’ve been terrifying, and scary, and that water was probably really cold. But you acted so fast. You were so brave, and so smart, and I couldn’t have asked for you to do anything more than that.”

“It _was,”_ Cove suddenly burst. Suddenly his eyes were watering. “It was _horrible._ I felt so scared and so _helpless._ Like — like if I did one thing wrong, he’d die, but I wasn’t _going_ to let that happen! I _couldn’t!_ If I’d reached him and I couldn’t have saved him, I…”

Cliff reached up to tuck Cove into the crook of his neck, like he was swaddling him as a baby. Instead of feeling infantilizing, like it should have, Cove felt safe. Cove felt at home.

“And I was so angry,” Cove whispered. “I was so angry at him for doing this. I shouldn’t have been. You’re not supposed to be.”

“Sure,” Cliff murmured, rubbing Cove’s back. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be, or that you’re wrong for feeling like that. It hurt you a lot, didn’t it?”

“I’ve never had to save someone like that before.”

“I hope you never have to again.”

“I had just seen him,” Cove said with anguish in his voice. “I’d _just_ seen him at the charity event, and we even talked. And he didn’t say a word about any of it. He was so weird and cryptic and it was like he didn’t trust me, and… and I know you’re not supposed to blame people for feeling the way they do about this kind of thing — they can’t help it… but I thought — I know we never were super close, but we’re still…”

Cove trailed off.

“Still family,” Cliff finished with a small smile. “I know.” He looked sad, and Cove wondered if something he said had hurt Cliff’s feelings, too. “You’re right, they can’t help it. People like Jackson often feel like if there was another way out, they’d take it. But the way their mind works just blocks out every other alternative. There’s always some reason they can’t open up to people, or some reason they feel they have to die. It’s scary for them, too.”

Cove nodded.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings about it.” Cove felt Cliff’s sigh against his ear. “You probably said all this stuff to Jackson, huh?”

“I was a bit mean to Jackson,” Cove admitted quietly, as he pulled back and rubbed at his eyes.

Cliff hummed, his hands resting for a moment on Cove’s arms. “I think he probably appreciated that.”

 _“How?”_ Cove burst. “I don’t get it. After we talked, it seemed like he trusted me more, but I was such a jerk to him.”

Cliff raised an eyebrow at the curse, but otherwise didn’t comment. “I’m speaking from personal experience,” he said. His voice was slower now, gentler, and Cove could tell Cliff was really measuring the weight of his words before he said them. “But… a lot of times, if you’re in that position, people will treat you so carefully. Like his moms, for example. They’re so worried that something they say or do will make him worse — but that means they can’t be open and honest with him. They can tell him all they want that they love him and want him there, but they can’t tell him about all the bad things they thought. So the fact that you can? I don’t know. I’m not Jackson, but maybe he felt better being treated like that than like he’s made of glass.”

“Oh.”

He hadn’t thought of it like that, but it made sense. Weird, he thought, that he wasn’t friends with him before all this, and somehow it had brought them closer together than it had brought his family.

“Hey, Holdens!” A voice yelled out. It was Pam, from the stairs. “Somebody’s pizza’s here, and I think you want some!”

Cove sighed. “I guess we have to move.”

Cliff chuckled. “Yeah, I guess.”

They still stood for a moment. Cliff was watching him, his brow creased. “You feel a bit better?”

“I do,” Cove admitted. “I thought I wouldn’t, but… it feels good to get all that off my chest. And I appreciate you giving insight. But…” He bit his lip. “You know. I’m just… sad that you have experience with it, I guess.”

Cliff chuckled. He didn’t sound sad at all. “Well, it is what it is. I’m sure you already know I’ve got things I’m workin’ on. This is one of them that, believe it or not, I’m pretty much past. Just cuz I’ve got it packed away in a box doesn’t mean that sometimes I don’t trip on it and have to figure out how to put it back, but… yeah.”

Cove nodded, but he couldn’t help but smirk a little. “That sounds like something Mom would say.”

Cliff groaned. “Yeah, it does. Her and her ‘shelving’ things… She’s still got her claws in me, even now.”

Cove rolled his eyes as he shook his dad’s hands off. The comment was only funny because they weren’t angry at each other anymore. 

“We should put something up,” Cove said, gesturing to the walls. “After Jackson gets back. We should make sure there’s something on the walls.”

“Hm.” Cliff gave them a thoughtful look. “You mentioned they used to be totally covered, right? I wonder if…”

Suddenly his eyes lit up, like he had a lightbulb moment. “I know. We should take a picture.”

“…A picture?”

“Yeah, a photo. Once he’s out. We should take one with all six of us, like a family photo. That way he’s got a physical reminder here that he’s loved.”

Cove smiled. “I… actually really like that idea. We should ask the Rowes.”

“Definitely. Now,” Cliff said with a grin, “let’s eat.”

**_Epilogue: Several months later_ **

They were hanging out in Jackson’s room. Technically, Cove had been invited over for dinner, but they had time to kill before it was served. Cove looked around the room. It had changed a lot in the past few months.

Jackson had been excited to pick out a new color for his room. “It’s kind of like a fresh start,” he’d said. And though he was eager, Cove could sense a sort of fatigue in him. Likely imagining all the things he’d have to collect again after systematically eliminating everything he had. Cove had been surprised to find that even his clothes had been given away, which meant he had to start over with his wardrobe, too.

The color he picked _hadn’t_ been the color of Cove’s hair. Jackson instead had picked a pale yellow, and left one wall blank. “I’ll paint it at some point,” Jackson had said thoughtfully.

He still hadn’t, but Cove got the impression it was because Jackson wanted it to be something special. Cove did, too. He wanted it to be something Jackson looked forward to doing, and something that, when done, he was proud of. Something he looked forward to seeing every day.

Apparently, Jackson’s therapist was saying a lot about making sure he had goals.

“It’s hard, sometimes,” Jackson had said to Cove one evening after a session. “I don’t always feel like I deserve to look forward to something.”

“Jackson,” Cove had begun.

“I know,” Jackson had sighed. “The wall is a big thing I get to look forward to. I’m trying to find a way to look forward to the little things.”

“Are there any little things you care about?”

Jackson had shrugged.

The room had more furniture in it now, though not by much. They’d refinished his dresser to give it a new look. Jackson had a new desk, and a new laptop. He’d sold his old tablet he used for digital drawings and hadn’t gotten a chance to get a new one yet. Though the Rowes were not hurting for money, buying so much at once was a lot to put on their plate when they were now juggling medical debt.

Jackson had gone to a ward after his initial release. It was a voluntary admittance, and one he’d suggested himself. Liz said it had been kind of scary, the way Jackson had looked their parents in the eyes and told them he didn’t think he could be trusted not to do something like that again.

“He’s being more open,” Cliff had said with a smile. “That’s good. Following your example, maybe.”

“That’s stupid,” Cove had said with a roll of his eyes. “More likely that, now that he has evidence people care about him, he’s actually trying to get better.”

Jackson didn’t always talk about all of it with Cove. Sometimes when they hung out, that was all it was; existing in the same place at the same time, together. Cove didn’t mind. He found it almost reassuring to know that Jackson was safe, that he trusted Cove wouldn’t bother him too much about it.

Cove imagined that talking about your feelings as often as Jackson had to in therapy was probably exhausting.

But now, it was just the two of them, in Jackson’s room, waiting for dinner.

It was mundane. Cove never thought he’d appreciate something as mundane as this, but after everything that had happened, he really found it relaxing.

“Oh, by the way,” Cove said as he sat back onto the bed, “you still talk to Baxter, right?”

Jackson raised an eyebrow from his spot at his desk. Cove shrugged. “What? He gave you his number, right?”

“I…” Cove blinked, eyes wide, as he watched Jackson’s cheeks turn _pink._ Jackson looked away, fidgeting with his pencil. “I mean, yeah. He did. And… I do. Still talk to him. Texting, mostly. Why? What’s up?”

“I didn’t think Terri was right,” Cove whispered, a grin spreading across his face. 

Jackson glanced up, startled. “Huh?”

“Terri called it. Said you two were head over heels.”

“We’re not—” Jackson huffed. “I like him. As a friend. You know. He’s nice to me.”

“So am I, and you don’t turn red when we talk.”

Jackson rolled his eyes as hard as he could. “It’s not like it’s gonna be anything. I’m not…” He twirled the pencil again and Cove could see that blush stretching down to his neck. “I’m not ready for a relationship right now. I’m still dealing with all that shit and I doubt he’d say yes even if I asked him on an e-date. But, you know, if I give it a decade and he’s still single by then, sure.”

“An ‘e-date,’” Cove snickered. “You’ve thought a lot about that, huh?”

“Oh my god…” 

“Just saying, you’re usually not too talkative. Right now I don’t think I could pay you to shut up.”

“You and Liz!”

“Liz and Terri like to talk,” Cove laughed.

“Anyway,” Jackson said, clearing his throat. “Different subject, please.”

Cove sighed. “I guess I’ll be nice.” He gestured to the sketchbook in Jackson’s hands. “What are you drawing this time?”

Jackson didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. He held it up so that Cove could look at it. “What do you think?”

It was the beach. The water was a favorite subject of Jackson’s, but what surprised Cove about the picture was that there were _people_ in the drawing this time. It was still unfinished, and the people were mostly only figures lacking faces or details, but they were definitely humans.

Jackson shrugged at the look on Cove’s face. “I’ll let you see it when I’m done.”

“Cool.”

Cove hoped that soon, Jackson’s walls would be filled with drawings just like that. For now, the family photo would have to be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really describe Jackson at all, but I do have in mind a "look" for him. But it felt awkward to be bringing it up every few seconds when there was something like this going on. So... you know. Here's a handy [link](https://twitter.com/moominquartz/status/1358629713934245890/). :)
> 
> Let me know your thoughts, especially on characterization. Cove is a fun one to write, but he is a bit tricky!


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